Cuba, the two blockades and more...

By Rodrigo Acuña from Havana, Cuba

ON LINE Opinion - Australia's e-journal of social and political debate

5 January 2012

I recently travelled to Havana, Cuba. I went there not as a political
analyst or to practise journalism, but to get away from the
difficulties of carrying out research in Caracas, Venezuela – one of
Latin America's most overcrowded, violent and hostile cities, despite
the efforts of its current administration to reduce poverty.

Once inside the island, I was quickly reminded that contemporary Cuba
has two blockades. The first is the trade blockade imposed by the
United States since 1960; the second is the policies the government has
imposed, both to survive U.S. aggression and in its original pursuit of
orthodox soviet socialism – i.e. complete state control of the economy.

Walk around Havana and the first blockade is evident. The capital of
Cuba lacks paint, cement, lighting, plumbing, and just about everything
else that is not produced in mass quantities inside the country.
Washington not only restricts U.S. companies from selling goods to the
Cuban state, it also penalises third parties which aim to trade with the
island and, simultaneously, have other commercial dealings in the U.S.

Many Cubans have grown weary of hearing of "el bloqueo" (the
blockade) from their political leaders as an excuse for all that is
wrong in the country, despite its colossal and real impacts in allowing
the island to develop.

Washington's actions against Cuba – which have only mildly improved
under the Obama administration – of course have nothing to do with human
rights, promoting democracy, or the fact that former leader Fidel
Castro sided with the Soviet bloc during the Cold War.

At the core of the dispute is the United States self-appointed right
to have puppet democracies or dictatorships in Latin America and the
Caribbean (either is fine) while its own corporations pay few taxes,
royalties or trade tariffs to local governments. And since the Cuban
revolution defies Washington's self-appointed rights, the U.S. since
1959 has been committed to overthrowing the regime through just about
any means, including terrorism.

At a National Security Council meeting held on January 14, 1960,
State Department Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs
Roy Rubboton stated:

"The period from January to March might be characterized as the
honeymoon period of the Castro government. In April a downward trend in
US-Cuban relations had been evident. . . . In June we had reached the
decision that it was not possible to achieve our objectives with Castro
in power and had agreed to undertake the program referred to by
Merchant. In July and August we had been busy drawing up a program to
replace Castro."

The honeymoon period which Rubboton comments on is essentially three
months in 1959. But even this is misleading. Once U.S.-backed dictator
Fulgencio Batista and his cronies fled Havana, they left with 424
million dollars from the Republic's treasury leaving it almost bankrupt.
Deposited in U.S. banks, Havana then asked Washington for the rendition
and return of these funds – obviously to no avail since Batista's thugs
were the very people the U.S. had once backed.

As with the Merchant program, other programs to destroy the Cuban
political system have been in place since the 1960s. They included
supporting Cuban-American mercenaries from Miami who would set off bombs
in factories, hotels, trade ports, aeroplanes, burn-down sugar cane
fields, murder teachers who were engaged in the country's literacy
campaign, and even carry out acts of biological warfare. According to
Cuban authorities these acts have left 3,478 civilians dead and 2,099
wounded.

Even after the Cold War ended, Washington has still supported (or
turned a blind eye) to the actions of Cuban exiles in Miami. In 1997
close to a dozen bombs went off in Havana wounding 11 people and killing
an Italian tourist. A year later, in an interview with the New York Times, CIA-trained Luis Posada Carriles confessed to paying a Salvadorian mercenary to carry out the attacks.

Add to all these actions the 634 botched assassination attempts
against Fidel Castro – according to the retired head of Cuban
counterintelligence Fabian Escalante – and it should become evident why
the Cuban political system has a Spartan like mentality.

Many Cubans of course will not talk at length about the first
blockade as they have little power to change U.S. policy. Their concerns
are with "el doble bloqueo" (the double blockade) which refer
to the economic and political restrictions within the island. While Raul
Castro – in power since February 2008 – has begun to liberalise the economy allowing small businesses to operate, taxes by the state, according to many of the Cubans I spoke to, seem too high.

For tourists who pay in Cuba's convertible currency – known as the
CUC and pegged 1-1 with the U.S. dollar – a night out in Havana will be
cheap matched with quality service. Eat at a restaurant with average
Cubans though, paying in national currency, and your experience can at
times be rather different. People employed in the hospitality industry
are keen to work in places using CUC, but for those that do not their
frustrations seem evident treating their fellow nationals as burdens, if
not with open distain.

The average monthly wage in the national currency (roughly $US 20)
does not suffice and forces Cubans to find other means to make ends
meet. All too often this implicates stealing goods from the state and
selling them in an illegal market.

Then there is the issue of racism which has deep historical roots in the Caribbean island.

During the first years of the revolution there were some genuine
efforts to address discrimination towards Afro-Cubans. Presently though,
this same drive does not seem to exist.

Arriving in Havana, an Afro-Cuban male at the airport had his bags
pedantically checked by a rude customs officer. Expecting the same
treatment as I was next in line, I was surprised to see the official
simply walk off leaving his post unattended when it was my turn to have
my luggage inspected.

In Havana's Museum of Rum you will find that the security guards are
Afro-Cubans. However, look a little further, like at the people who take
you on a tour throughout the museum, and you will notice that they are
overwhelmingly Cubans of Spanish heritage. This is an image one runs
into frequently in Cuba: most of the lower ranking jobs are staffed by
Afro-Cubans while the more cushy ones go to whites.

Add to all these actions the 634 botched assassination attempts
against Fidel Castro – according to the retired head of Cuban
counterintelligence Fabian Escalante – and it should become evident why
the Cuban political system has a Spartan like mentality.

Many Cubans of course will not talk at length about the first
blockade as they have little power to change U.S. policy. Their concerns
are with "el doble bloqueo" (the double blockade) which refer
to the economic and political restrictions within the island. While Raul
Castro – in power since February 2008 – has begun to liberalise the economy allowing small businesses to operate, taxes by the state, according to many of the Cubans I spoke to, seem too high.

For tourists who pay in Cuba's convertible currency – known as
the CUC and pegged 1-1 with the U.S. dollar – a night out in Havana will
be cheap matched with quality service. Eat at a restaurant with average
Cubans though, paying in national currency, and your experience can at
times be rather different. People employed in the hospitality industry
are keen to work in places using CUC, but for those that do not their
frustrations seem evident treating their fellow nationals as burdens, if
not with open distain.

The average monthly wage in the national currency (roughly $US 20)
does not suffice and forces Cubans to find other means to make ends
meet. All too often this implicates stealing goods from the state and
selling them in an illegal market.

Then there is the issue of racism which has deep historical roots in the Caribbean island.

During the first years of the revolution there were some genuine
efforts to address discrimination towards Afro-Cubans. Presently though,
this same drive does not seem to exist.

Arriving in Havana, an Afro-Cuban male at the airport had his bags
pedantically checked by a rude customs officer. Expecting the same
treatment as I was next in line, I was surprised to see the official
simply walk off leaving his post unattended when it was my turn to have
my luggage inspected.

In Havana's Museum of Rum you will find that the security guards are
Afro-Cubans. However, look a little further, like at the people who take
you on a tour throughout the museum, and you will notice that they are
overwhelmingly Cubans of Spanish heritage. This is an image one runs
into frequently in Cuba: most of the lower ranking jobs are staffed by
Afro-Cubans while the more cushy ones go to whites.

Numerous Afro-Cubans are unhappy with the status quo, in
particular young males who are regularly stopped by the police and
unnecessarily asked for identification papers. Over ten years ago, when I
first visited the island, I once saw Fidel Castro speak on television
for over two hours to a graduation of young police officers. He informed
them of the need to be firm in dealing with crime, but likewise, that
Cuba's police force should not resemble those of most Latin American
countries where corruption and extrajudicial killings are the norm.

Such public talks by Fidel Castro were common back then and, whether
one agreed with his political philosophy or not, one had the sense that
he was aware (and indeed attempting) to resolve the country's problems.
In contrast, these days, other than the occasional handshake with a
visiting foreign head of state, Raul Castro is almost completely absence
from Cuban television.

Taking into consideration the reality of both blockades, it is also
too simplistic to say that average Cubans are gripped between U.S.
aggression and a one-party state. While dissidents like the known blogger Yoani Sanchez are published by major corporate publications
outside Cuba (left-wing Colombian or Honduran bloggers are of course
given no such dissemination), within the island they have next to no
support.

On one occasion, I travelled with a group of Afro-Cuban rappers to a
recording studio in the apartment of a dissident rock group. Uninformed
as to the meaning of the location I was in, I found it odd when an old
man began to ask me several questions. Presumably one of the relatives
of one of the young men from the rock group, his eyes widened when I
told him I was of Chilean parents. "Ah yes... Chilean president
Allende", he said. "He was a socialist, but a democratic type." "Yes", I
replied, "and he was also overthrown in a violent U.S.-backed coup
because he did not control the armed forces."

Looking around me after leaving the studio, which inside is covered
with street art and some anti-government slogans, the thought crossed my
mind that I might be approached by someone from a Committee for the
Defence of the Revolution (CDRs), or maybe even the state security
services. No such thing happened and the rappers I was with showed no
signs of being even remotely edgy. Inside the studio their lyrics
discussed their daily struggles but none of them were actively working
against the government.

Leaving Cuba on my way to the airport I was once again reminded of
another part of the island, the one Western journalist often ignore
completely in their hunt for an interview with dissidents.

Speaking to a cab driver he told me he recently bought his taxi and
was making a fair living. When I told him I was returning to Venezuela,
where two or three times a week young men will jump on my bus route and
tell passengers they once use to "rob and shoot people", have now
"reformed" themselves, and are only asking for a "small collaboration"
because they "do not want to hurt anyone onboard", the cabbie shook his
head and showed me his political stripes:

"My father was part of Fidel's personal security team. When the U.S.
supported the military coup against Hugo Chavez in 2002, my father wept
and I was truly sad."

Like this cab driver and his father, there are hundreds of thousands
of Cubans who still feel some type of loyalty to the political system.
Often they have worked in Third World countries as doctors, teachers or
in the military. In Venezuela there are over 40,000 Cuban medical
professionals practising in miserable violent slums. While some of these professionals defect to the U.S., the overwhelming majority does not.

As we continued our journey exchanging views, I told this cabbie that
despite the rundown aspect of Havana and many of Cuba's serious
problems, I was still amazed with the tranquillity, safety and human
warmth of the island's contemporary society.

I informed him that in Havana I did not see homeless children begging
for food, or looking to pickpocket me like I have experienced in other
cities in the Latin America. Neither are there violent armed gangs,
enormous drug infested slums, or levels of police corruption where an
officer of the law is only too happy to mug or execute someone for a few
hundred dollars.

Furthermore, instead of being the objectives of a select dissident
minority, which lacks "leadership and legitimacy" in Cuban civil society
as thoughtfully explained by Rafael Hernandez,
the abolition of the current political system would have to be
something most people on the island were actually presently striving to
achieve through a mass popular movement.

The coming years of course will indicate what aspects of their system
Cubans will decide to keep, modify, or abolish completely. As always,
their belligerent and self-interested historical neighbour 90 miles away
will keenly be following events.